


Keep Your Enemies Close

by nimery



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: ?? - Freeform, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Assassination Attempt(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Crimes & Criminals, Established Relationship, Inspired by Music, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Slow Burn, but that's okay, everyone is out of character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-10 17:42:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11696655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimery/pseuds/nimery
Summary: Shiota Nagisa has been ordered by the head of the Terasaka group to kill his rival, the head of the Akabane group.The young assassin gets a little over his head when a bargain he can't refuse is made.





	1. nothing more than each other's enemy

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out longer than I planned for it to be.
> 
> This was inspired by "Bedroom Warfare" by ONE OK ROCK but seriously departed from that.

"Goddammit! That bastard!" Terasaka Ryouma slammed his fist into the wall. A heavy yet dull thud reverberated through it. The window beside it shook slightly, as though trembling, as though it were afraid. The movement caught his attention. His eyes flashed viciously as they turned to the pane, then to the lights and life of the busy streets below. He looked out the window, squinting as he did - maybe he was looking for something unnatural, affected by his unsettled nerves.

"Would you mind warning me before you do that? Sensitive materials here, thanks," Itona said apathetically, sitting cross-legged on a leather couch a few feet away. Some sort of small electrical device was in his lap, a precision screwdriver wedged into it. His movements were minute, and he was focused on those tiny wires and screws inside the device. A remote? It looked like one, but from where he stood, Nagisa couldn't see the front of it, only the open panel at the back and the form bent over it.

For a small moment, he hesitated, hovering by the door, looking in on them, between them. His mouth twisted up in indecision with a hand on the jamb, even though he had been called in for matters that he could only assume were business-related. There was a thick atmosphere in the room, one he couldn't explain or describe - he could only comprehend that he was an outsider from the moment he opened the door, and even that action seemed to go either unnoticed or ignored by the two. His presence had not soured the comfortable silence that had settled on them, after Terasaka's outburst, and he wondered how they were able to maintain that with him there - if they'd even noticed him yet. He didn't want to interrupt, but he had to. It was business, after all, and it would be unprofessional for him not to come when called. To turn away because of something as silly as not wanting to ruin some imaginary atmosphere. A quick breath to prepare him hitched his chest before he spoke.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" He steadied his voice and set his gaze on Ryouma - the newly appointed leader of the Terasaka group. Nagisa had known his father before him, though he had not worked under him and had watched the rivalry between the two groups that ran this city form from the outside. Nagisa's teacher had told him how it happened, having been privy to the meetings that led up to this. How it took a new boss on the other side to break a tension that had been growing for years. A year after the two groups had declared war, the former Terasaka head had retired and suddenly, Ryouma held the reigns of both the organization and of the jobs both Nagisa and his mentor took. Nagisa didn't have an impression of him as a leader yet, but he was anxious. There was one reason for Ryouma to call him.

"I'm tired of all this. That bastard... He bought out 37th yesterday. North the day before that." The man hissed, roughly raking a hand through his hair. "It's like he's closing in. Like some fucking snake. Trying to choke me out. I hate him, and I hate this damned turf war." The man groaned in frustration, as though contemplating his situation only made the suffering expand within him. "I blame my old man, Shiota. I blame my old man, and I blame that goddamned son of a bitch Akabane." Ryouma stepped back from the window, eyes focused, finally, on their reflections, his own, Itona's, and Nagisa's behind him. He turned his back on the window, slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

"You're good at what you do, ain't ya?" His voice was quiet but seemed to ricochet off the walls of the office - eyes and lips snarling. An unhindered pressure resounded from him. A thirst for blood. It made Nagisa’s skin crawl the way that feeling always did – with that strange mixture of fear and excitement and the very same yearning pooling up within him. "I want you to kill him."

"...Their boss?" It was a stupid question, and Nagisa knew that. Yet, he asked it regardless, knowing what the answer would be and wishing it wouldn't be.

"Yeah. Kill him so that they'll be thrown into chaos. So they stop egging us on. Put those goddamn fools in their place." Ryouma decisively turned back to the window, sharp eyes looking over Tokyo once more. Nagisa noticed Itona looking up, looking over at Ryouma with a creased brow.

He bowed respectfully and turned his back on the two, leaving them to that strange atmosphere from before, though he did have a feeling that now, it would be different. Itona hadn't looked very happy at the decision.

* * *

The door slammed. Nagisa didn't look up as he pulled on a strap, tightening the scabbard so it hugged his waist. The tighter it was, the less likely it was to be noticed in passing. He felt the weight of an angry gaze but didn't look up. He slipped a knife into its place before moving to the next. He wanted to be armed to the teeth; he didn't want to be taken by surprise in any way.

"You don't have enough skill to take on this job alone," his mentor said. His voice was heavy, and Nagisa felt his shoulders tense and a shiver shake down his spine. "You don't have any experience infiltrating – it’s too dangerous."

"You don't get any experience by turning down jobs." He countered, tightening another strap. As of yet, he hadn’t mustered up enough courage to look up. He didn't need to look over at the man to know his mentor, Koro, was mad - he could feel it in the man's gaze and the rhythm of his breathing, in the pitch of his emotions. Yet, Nagisa was surprised to feel that spike of rage calm slightly, suddenly, as though it were ebbing, pulling back into containment. 

"Don't be reckless." The tone was no longer steeled, a fact that surprised Nagisa quite a bit. He could still feel a slight pressure in the atmosphere. Something he assumed to be the man's rage, yet, for now, he seemed calm- as if he saw that this moment would be more suited to teaching his disciple than scolding him. Nagisa nodded, feeling his own body relaxing as well, no longer feeling the need to be guarded against the man. He much preferred it when Koro decided to teach; the other man could be eerily monstrous when he was angry, no matter how calm, or rather, apathetic, he seemed normally. Sometimes, Nagisa had to remind himself that Koro was a trained killer, despite the warm familial feeling that had always surrounded him, that Koro had taught him everything he knew about assassination. He risked a glance over. Those normally cold eyes were welcoming, a charitable term, but Nagisa had been around long enough to see changes within them.

"You'll want to get in and out as quietly as possible- even killing him needs to be quiet. You cannot afford to make noise. He'll probably have security posted about the building like Terasaka does." Those thin, patchy brows knitted, black eyes narrowed. He could see the man's mind turning, going through every possible strategy, every possible thought. His fingers fidgeted. "Please, don't do anything stupid. You know how these yakuza types are. If you are caught, you will be killed." Those eyes were wider now and set on him, paired with a slight frown. Concern.

Nagisa felt a small smile tug at his mouth. His gaze fell back to the task before him, back to the problem at hand. "I appreciate it. And I will use every skill you taught me. I will make it back alive."

"That's not a promise." A small bit of the steel returned. And yet, it wasn't like he was wrong. It was true that Nagisa wasn’t trying to make a promise or a guarantee. Neither of them could ever know the small things that could change a mission. They could only walk in with some experience, walk out with more.

"I will try my best."

That much was the only guarantee he could give. Koro seemed to realize that, as his expression hardened once more, but he didn't say anything. He only reached out and ruffled a hand through Nagisa's hair.

"Wear a hood," he suggested quietly. Nagisa nodded in response, not wanting his hair to become a beacon in the streetlights as much as his mentor.

* * *

He checked his supplies five times. His heart pounding in his chest, visibly shaking his body. Did he have everything he needed? Yes. _Did he have everything he needed?_ Yes. **_Did he have everything -_**

As far as he could tell, he was prepared for most anything, and all of his tools were slipped into pockets and scabbards. He had four knives, two smoke bombs, and a flashbang. His hand had hovered over a small handgun just as he was about to leave, but he’d decided against it. While he wasn’t sure if it was a good choice or not, he did know that guns were louder than he wanted to be – not to mention the fact that Nagisa was objectively more skilled with the knife. The smoke bombs would provide him with cover to strike, the flashbang would give the guards a distraction while he was slipping in.

He couldn’t really explain away the purpose of carrying four knives. It just made him feel safer, more prepared. If he lost one, or if there’s a struggle and he lost his grip, he’d easily have a second weapon, and a third, a fourth. As much as he didn’t want it to become a physical brawl – he wasn’t confident in his one-on-one fighting ability – he had to prepare for it anyway.

He had these covered by a loose black sweatshirt. Its hood was pulled up, covering his hair, which he had pulled back and out of the way. With rain in the forecast, he wouldn’t appear out of place with it, especially on such a dark night.

He grabbed a plain, pointedly not suspicious, bicycle from the Terasaka group’s garage and rode it into Akabane territory. He could only notice how close the two groups were in such a big city and had to remind himself that they were once allies. He took a deep breath once past that invisible border line between the two groups. He knew what he was looking for - a big skyscraper that would almost look like it would have to house a corporation instead of the head of a yakuza group. He knew where he would have to look - top floor, center room, Akabane's office.

Like always, the weight of his weapons, his tools, comforted him, warmed his chest simply by being there. Because he felt like he had some leverage – since the Akabane group had no idea he was coming. Armed with what he knew how to use, with what he was used to, he knew he was as ready for this as he could be at this moment. He wouldn’t use any of the new techniques Koro had recently taught him. He needed to stick to what was familiar, what he was good at.

He pulled his hood down at the front, so it covered more of his face as he turned into an alley and set the bike against a wall steadily, to ensure it wouldn't fall over. If he climbed up the side of this building here, he'd probably be able to get to the roof of the Akabane building. He scrunched his nose. He really hoped he hadn't misjudged the distance.

Nagisa rubbed his hands together, took a deep breath, and pulled himself up.

* * *

Outside the window, rain fell on Tokyo. The forecast had predicted it to start at around ten in the evening, yet it was two hours early. The clouds had burst open rather suddenly, drops of rain had run down the windows of the office, overlooking the land that his father had claimed, and he defended, and he overtook.

"Send some men down 12th. We'll get that one tomorrow." The direction was given with a stern voice and followed with a smirk. "That ought to piss him off."

His secretary laughed as she set a folder on the desk. Narrowed blue eyes fell upon him, alight with amusement. "Are you trying to get a rise out of him, Karma?"

He shrugged, his mouth still curled up in a devilish grin. His arms folded over his chest as he turned his attention onto the folder, it was closed, yet, thanks to the meticulous organization skills of his secretary, decorated in colored markers that told him exactly what was inside. Profits from property holdings and other financial matters that he didn’t really want to go through now. Though he supposed he should. "Opponents are more fun if they're angry, don't you think?" The words had slipped from him absently as he flipped open the first page, eyes scanned the contents.

"Wouldn't you rather he try to take you down logically?" She asked, leaning slightly against the desk, fingers curled around its sides.

"I'd rather he came at me with all he has. Let him march on me with an army; I can fight back." He laughed as he closed the folder again, stepping away from the desk.

"You're cocky."

He shrugged once more. “Maybe, maybe not. I haven’t been able to see what the footmen can do yet. It would be interesting to see what would happen in a full-on war between us and them.”

“You’re not this stupid… normally… why the hell do you want a war, Karma?” Her eyes narrowed. An eyebrow raised. In return, he laughed, once and loud.

“You should get home. It’s getting quite late. I’ll look over those reports, and well, you don’t have to worry about any open fighting. If Terasaka takes the first swing, I’ll consider it, but I won’t do anything first.” He said, rounding the desk and taking a seat, pulling the file to him. She pushed off his desk.

“Night then, boss.”

“Night, Rio.”

The door to his office closed with a click. He barely focused on the words as his eyes drifted over the papers. Nothing was in the red, all loans were being properly looked after and paid. There were no reported casualties from activities, of civilians or of underlings. _Blah, blah, blah._

The folder fell closed, and his head fell onto the desk as he let out a sigh. He needed to get more sleep. Lately, he had been resembling an insomniac, rather than a young, sprightly, and healthy loan shark. He simply couldn’t find the comfort. There was a hollowness he felt in his life, one that he felt waxing over him most prevalently at night, when the moon was at its brightest, the only thing hanging in the sky above him.

He would look up to it and nurse a glass of whiskey, since drinking was easier than falling asleep and always seemed to lead to it. Drumming his fingers on the desk, listening to the dull thuds, he tried to remember if he had any drinks here. That much would distract him from thinking about his life.

Karma pushed himself up, stretching out his back, hearing the symphony of snaps that resounded. The image of a cat flashed into his head, an orange one with darker stripes, stretching in a patch of sunlight. He leaned back in his chair, stretched out his legs so his shoes rested on the desk. If he looked up, he’d probably be able to see the light of the moon piercing through the rain clouds. They were light, a grey scattered across the black sky. The only other spots of light he could see were accompanied with a white noise and a flashing red point beside it. Strange enough they were hanging around when there was supposed to be a storm. He narrowed his eyes, focusing on the splashes of water against the window. Perhaps that storm was starting now.

He spun around and pushed himself off the chair, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. The rain was coming down, relentlessly. He could hear it striking the windows like pebbles. He knew that down below, people would be opening umbrellas, milling to cabs, racing to the metro. He clicked his tongue and stretched out his arms, taking a deep breath.

“Maybe I should,” he mumbled, looking across the room. Honestly, he couldn’t remember if he kept any whiskey here, much less glasses for it.

He looked back to the window, to his own reflection standing amongst the droplets of water. Looks tired, the man mouthed, as his eyes focused on the shadows beneath them. He scrunched up his nose and glanced away, just to notice a quick flash of motion behind him, to feel his ears prick and his shoulders tense as he turned. His body and instincts reacted faster than his eyes could register. Before he realized it, he had flipped his assailant onto his back, had a knife pointed at his stomach, while he had turned the other on the stranger’s throat.

Karma let himself catch his breath as he registered the face of the person who had attacked him. A sharp chin, large blue eyes, long eyelashes, knitted brows, heaving chest. The stranger struggled as Karma grabbed the other knife aimed at his gut, pinning that wrist to the floor with a knee and discarding the weapon across the room. He kept the knife against the stranger’s neck as he pushed up the wet hood that covered their head. The stranger’s hair was a bright blue, bangs held back with a clip, and he could see the rest of it gathered up in the back.

“Did Terasaka send you?” Karma asked, before he was kicked away, a boot shoved into his stomach, causing him to cough and glance up with widened eyes, surprised that the assailant had somehow repositioned themself without Karma noticing. However, he counted himself lucky that his hand had kept its grip on the knife secure.

The assailant pulled out another, and Karma noticed a shift in their stance. A fighting stance. Though he also couldn’t miss the shadow in their eyes – they were scared. Karma could laugh at that. Imagine, a hired thug being afraid.

“Answer the question,” he demanded. The assailant considered him for a moment, thin lips being pursed together.

“It doesn’t matter,” a thin, soft voice answered him; still as androgynous as the rest of the attacker. “Someone wants you dead, Mr. Akabane. It is my job to kill you.” Karma let out a huff of air, assuming he wouldn’t be getting any other information. He moved one foot back, lifted his hands, mirroring the assassin.

The assassin came forward first, with a relaxed body, eyes fixed on Karma’s, calm steps as they walked forward. His eyes were drawn to the knife that dangled haphazardly in their hand, to the only point where he could find immediate danger. He wasn’t familiar with assassins, he’d never dealt with any, never had to fight any. But, he had sparred with various members of his group, whenever he could.

He liked to fight, always had, and he knew he could absolutely crush this tiny assassin. He could tell their guard was still up, despite the fact their weapon was down. He let his eyes tear away from the knife and fix on the eyes that were watching him carefully. The assassin raised their blade, and Karma let his body react, similarly to how it did in the beginning. He grabbed the armed hand and propelled the small, light body over his shoulder onto the ground behind him.

The assassin let out a soft choking noise, brows creased, eyes closed tightly. Karma turned and knelt down, wrenching this knife from their hand as well, discarding it across the room. He set his knee on the assassin’s chest and checked their body for more weapons.

“Killing me won’t do anything for you anymore,” he said, quietly, as he pulled out another knife and tossed that one across the room as well. “There’s not much else you can do. In fact, you’re dead. The moment you stepped into this office, you died. And I’ll be sure to tell Terasaka that his attempt failed. Personally. I’m sure he’ll love to hear that.”

“You’re gonna kill me?” The voice was breathless, the chest beneath him was heaving.

“Depends. Are you going to try to kill me?” He countered, grabbing the assassin’s wrists, pinning them to the floor. Their blue eyes surveyed him for a moment; he could see them narrowing slightly, gears spinning rapidly.

“No point in trying if I’m dead.”

“At least you understand that much,” he said as he stood, offering a hand to help the other off the ground. He could see the reluctance in their eyes as they reached up, carefully slipping their hand into Karma’s. “I’m going to assume you know me, after all, you tried to kill me. But do I get the pleasure of knowing who I killed?”

“Nagisa,” they answered. “Just call me Nagisa.”

Karma grinned. “Always nice to put a name to a face.”

* * *

Karma noticed, as he rode the elevator up to the penthouse suite of this apartment complex, that Nagisa was rather awkward when not trying to kill him. As much as the quick, thought-out, graceful moves had intrigued him, Karma found his eyes flitting over to the person at his side. To the way those thumbs rubbed against each other, fidgeting, tussling.

The elevator dinged, the doors opened, and Karma led Nagisa into his apartment. Immediately, Karma noticed how those blue eyes widened, darting around the room. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched as the other took hesitant steps into the room, hands rubbing together as if to calm their nerves.

“It’s late,” Karma said. His voice was loud, and he almost felt as though it echoed in the room, with its high ceiling, wide spaces that he couldn’t fill for the life of him. Maybe that was why Nagisa seemed so amazed with this place: it looked as though no one lived here. In fact, the only evidence of him was a stocked bar and a few dirty shot glasses.Nagisa turned around, facing him. The distance between them felt longer than it actually was, since, with hardly any effort on his part, Karma could easily see Nagisa’s full height – most of their body was dwarfed in a black sweatshirt, but the pants seemed to hug their legs, and Karma could see just how thin those legs were.

Nagisa turned around, facing him. The distance between them felt longer than it actually was, since, with hardly any effort on his part, Karma could easily see Nagisa’s full height – most of their body was dwarfed in a black sweatshirt, but the pants seemed to hug their legs, and Karma could see just how thin those legs were.

“Well, you brought me here. What’s your plan?” Their weight was shifted to one side, one leg stretched out, arms crossing in front of them.

“Honestly?” Karma smirked before he headed over to the bar. “I hadn’t come up with one yet. This is all a spur of the moment decision, you see?” He pulled out two glasses and held one up to his would-be assassin.

“You of age? Mind if I drink?” He offered, a brow hitched before turning back to the bar and grabbing a bottle of whiskey.

“Are you offering? I wouldn’t mind a bit.” The other said as they approached, but as they reached out Karma tapped their hand with his own empty glass.

“You look twelve. You need to answer the first question before I pop any metaphorical corks.” He said, ignoring the grin that had spread across his face. Nagisa, in return, frowned and grabbed the glass from the counter with a huff.

“I am twenty-three years old; pour me some.” They demanded, brows knitting. Unsurprisingly, the declaration surprised Karma, and he let his eyes trace back over Nagisa. Most of their body was covered by the sweatshirt, but no matter how he looked at it, this person couldn’t have even gone through puberty yet. There was no way they were as old as Karma. No way.

He let out a huff of air. A quick jerk of laughter. “Yeah, sure. And the next thing you’ll tell me is that you’re a man.”

Those big blue eyes looked up at him. “I am.”

“Then what about your hair?” He asked, gesturing to the waves of messy blue hair that was somehow pulled back behind his would-be assassin’s head.

“Long hair is not inherently feminine,” Nagisa grumbled as he reached out to grab the bottle of whiskey. “And Koro said it would be a good idea to keep it long since I have a… a feminine face. It’s easier to get people’s guards down if they think a cute girl is coming after them. Plus, it opens up all sorts of disguises.”

Karma hummed. “Is Koro your boss or something?”

“Who Koro is… that’s none of your concern.” Nagisa said as he wedged off the glass stopper on the bottle. He picked it up, looking over the label on it. "How old is this?"

“Not as old as it tastes,” Karma answered as the deep orange liquid sloshed into the glass. Nagisa looked back up to him, offering him the bottle. He took it, pouring some of the liquid into his own glass. “So how long is it?”

“Just to my shoulders. Here.” Nagisa reached back and pulled his hair loose, slipping the hair band around his wrist. It was still messy, with a few vagrant strands floating away from the rest that settled on his back, but despite that, Karma was a bit transfixed. Especially when Nagisa reached back, threading a hand through the locks and shot him a smile.

_Ah, fuck._

Karma looked away and downed his glass, coughing a little as some of it went down the wrong tube.

“You alright?” Nagisa asked him, turning and leaning back against the bar, looking over at Karma.

“Yeah, no. I’m fine…” He cleared his throat. “Those disguises must be effective.” Nagisa hummed and turned his head forward.

“Sometimes they work a little too well. I’ve had to get pulled out of possibly dangerous situations more than a few times by… well, people I’ve done missions with.”

“So, you’re like, an actual assassin, huh? I actually bested you in a fight.”

Nagisa chuckled at that before grabbing his own glass from the counter behind him.

“If I had the element of surprise, you’d be dead.” He shook his head. “My hindsight is really 20/20 right now, let me tell you.” He took a sip.

“If I hadn’t seen your reflection?”

“I probably would have slit your throat.” The words were said absently, and Karma poured some more into his glass.

“Well, I, for one, am glad I saw your reflection.” He said, in the same kind of voice Nagisa had just used. He glanced over and saw Nagisa’s lips tighten.

“I’m not so sure about that… You’re going to tell them I’m dead, and I… I’m not really looking forward to what might happen because of that.” His expression grew grim, with pinched brows and eyes cast to the ground. Karma cocked his head to the side, but he didn’t say anything, just took another drink.

“What do you think a dead man does with his time?” Nagisa asked, raising his glass up to his mouth, but only resting it on his bottom lip. He could see the wet pinkness within Nagisa’s mouth. Looking away again, Karma took another drink.

“My guess is poker,” Karma answered, his face scrunching a bit from the aftershock of the liquid on his tongue.

“Are you being sarcastic?” He could only guess the variety of incredulous expression that graced Nagisa’s face then, though he didn’t dare to look over.

“Not at all. Why can’t dead men play poker?” He asked, which earned him a small chuckle. He could feel eyes on him. Hear steady breathing.

“I’d think dead men would be off doing better things,” Nagisa said, and he heard the glass clink against the counter top.

“What is there for a dead man to do?” Karma wondered, turning his glass in his hand absently, watching the way the amber liquid within twirled and rocked against the edges of the glass. There was a pause for a moment, in which Karma assumed Nagisa was thinking.

“Catch up on sleep,” was the answer, when it came. “At least, that’s what I’d do.” Karma let out a soft laugh.

“A man after my own heart,” he said. A question grew on the tip of his tongue, yet he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to ask it or not. He had a feeling he already knew the answer. Silence settled between the two of them once more, and with it, Karma downed his glass again, letting out a long, slow breath after the glass was finished. “That mean you’re going to get wasted and pass out? Will I need to carry your limp body to the couch or something?”

Nagisa was quiet for a few moments, and Karma wondered what it was. When he looked over, he saw those two blue eyes narrowed, on him.

“You’re pretty drunk right now, aren’t you?” The question was quiet, but Karma shrugged in response. He kept his eyes on Nagisa.

“Probably, I’ve downed a few glasses.”

“You hold yourself together well,” Nagisa stated, and Karma watched his gaze fall down his body. Stretching out his back a little, as if trying to show off his form, Karma grinned.

“Oh? Like what you see?”

“You are definitely drunk. That’s just great.” Nagisa’s eyes met Karma’s, which made him lean a little closer to the shorter man, the conniving smile still on his lips.

“Great, huh? How so?”

“Well, for one…” Nagisa said, taking hold of the bottle of whiskey. “Your inebriation makes it really easy for me to do whatever I want.” As Karma began to move back, Nagisa swung the bottle, hitting it soundly against Karma’s head, just above his temple, knocking him out of balance and onto the floor.

Blinking a few times, Karma put a hand up to his forehead, where he’d been hit, and saw the blood on his fingertips when he’d pulled his hand away. Looking back at Nagisa, he narrowed his eyes.

“Solid point,” Karma said, nodding as he pulled himself off the floor, one hand on the bar counter. “Good lesson. Never drink with someone trying to kill you. Yet, you miscalculated.”

“Did I?”

“My inebriation, as you put it, makes it really easy for me to do whatever I want as well.” And with that, Karma sprang forward, knocking the whiskey bottle out of Nagisa hand and hearing the loud clang as it hit the floor. He pressed his forearm against Nagisa’s chest, hand holding one of his wrists tightly, knee between the assassin’s legs. He both heard and felt the breath being knocked out of the shorter male as he hit the floor.

Karma felt that self-satisfied grin make its way back onto his face. “So, how about we talk this through, eh?”

Nagisa squirmed beneath him, his free hand flying up into Karma’s hair, pulling what he could get his hands on. His legs kicked, clutched, and tried everything to get out of the hold. Karma pressed his weight down, and Nagisa coughed.

“Would you stop trying to kill me for five seconds?” Karma groaned out, his frown deep as he watched the other pause for a moment, their eyes meeting once again.

“This,” Nagisa said, through gasps of breath. “This is what I get paid to do. Stop trying to kill you?” He let out a breathy whine that could have been a laugh. “I don’t really have a choice here.” Karma sighed and squeezed Nagisa’s wrist, causing the other to wince.

“Look, buddy. I obviously overpower you. Now, if I couldn’t see you, this would be a different story, but let’s be real. If you don’t sneak up on me, or surprise me, you’re not going to be able to kill me.”

Nagisa frowned at that. “Wanna bet?”

The next few things that Nagisa did took Karma by surprise. It wasn’t reminiscent of any form of fighting that he was familiar with, so he felt something interesting flash through his spine. Thankfully, it wasn’t pain, but rather, a strange mix of exhilaration, arousal, shock, and fear.

Nagisa’s legs curled around one of his, and the lower half of his body came off the ground, closer to Karma’s. The hand in his hair tightened and pulled, forcing him up until the pressure that he’d put on Nagisa’s chest was forced off. As the two sat up, Karma noticed that Nagisa’s wrist, the one he held, was slowly being pulled closer, and yet, for a moment, the two of them paused.

They were sitting up, legs entangled, Nagisa’s hand in Karma’s hair, Karma’s arm between them.

It could have been romantic, he mused, if the fact that Nagisa was actively trying to kill him was taken away.

With a frown and grit teeth, Nagisa continued to pull back, his legs bring Karma off balance until they both fell back onto the floor, though this time, Nagisa hovered over Karma.

Quickly, without thinking much, and yet before Nagisa could do anything, Karma reacted, stretching out the arm that rested against Nagisa’s chest and unceremoniously throwing him off and onto the floor beside him. Shortly, the two scrambled back onto their feet, all hands away from the other, fists set up in front.

Karma set his eyes on Nagisa, looking over him. His hair had quickly become a mess during their struggle, and he was panting for breath, his legs shaking from their awkward positioning beneath Karma’s weight moments earlier. His wrist was bright red, and Karma had a feeling that a bruise would be sprouting there, considering how tightly he had gripped it. As the other didn’t move, Karma took in a deep and long breath as his mind turned over the situation.

“So,” he began, eyes fixed on Nagisa. “You want to do your job and kill me. On the other hand, I could really go with not being killed.” His mouth curled up into a mischievous, snarling grin. “All we need to do is come up with a way to appease both of us.”

Nagisa’s brows knit tightly; his mouth dipped down into a pouting frown. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Oh, but it is.” A small, breathy laugh escaped Karma. “All I have to do is pretend to be dead, right? And you get to be dead with me.”

“Why?” The other’s body tensed as he asked the question, the fists he made growing tighter.

“Because I don’t trust you. Obviously. I need to keep my eyes on you, so you don’t do anything you might regret.” Karma dropped his fists and his grin and straightened his posture, holding out a hand toward the other. “So here's the thing: you and I pretend to be dead. Terasaka gets the satisfaction of thinking I'm dead. Rio gets to take over. And you get the pleasure of spending every waking moment by my side. What do you say?"

Nagisa let out a shaky sigh and eyed him warily. "Honestly, it sounds easier to just kill you."

He took a step closer to the would-be assassin, eyes hard and hand outstretched. "What if I could promise that this deal would be the best choice, in the long run?"

"I'd still doubt it."

His brow rose, quirked to attention. "How so?"

"I've got some vengeful people in my corner." Nagisa's eyes flashed. "I don't know what they'll do if you tell them I'm dead."

Karma took another deep breath before closing the distance between the two of them, placing his hand over one of Nagisa's fists. "You've got one of two choices here, bud. We both pretend to die tonight, or I'll call my men in and you actually get to die. Your call."

Nagisa dropped his fists, his face twisting up into a miserable expression. "Doesn't sound like I have a choice at all." He pursed his lips and looked up at Karma. "Fine. We're dead."

The smile returned, and Karma's eyes seemed to sparkle with mirth. "Perfect."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted: August 3, 2017  
> Re-edited: September 5, 2018


	2. it's like I never had a chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nagisa makes some Plans™
> 
> Karma is the opposite of smooth
> 
> And an awkward conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this updates every Thursday
> 
> And I still have no idea how long this fic is going to be...

Nagisa's father, before his parents had gotten a divorce, would kneel down beside his bed at night and speak to him about the good things in life. It was one of the memories he held close, one that he would trap inside his head by closing his eyes tightly. He remembered how his father would talk about the most mundane of things, would list them off on his fingers, and tell his son that they were important.

Sitting quietly on a stiff leather couch that felt as though it had never been used, as a high ceiling dwarfed him, Nagisa found his mind drifting back to that moment, trying to come up with the positives of his current situation.

One, he was alive. There was no doubt that the night before could have ended with him bleeding out on the polished, glossy floor of Akabane's apartment. Two, the blonde woman's glare was not being directed at him. She had come in earlier in the morning and had been surprised to see him asleep on the couch. Frankly, Nagisa had also been surprised to be waking up on the couch, since he did not remember falling asleep there. He didn't remember falling asleep at all. Despite that, he found his chest twisting in a hesitant amusement at the current situation.

The blonde woman stood in front of the couch, her hands in fists on her hips, her weight shifted forward onto one foot as she narrowed her eyes in an angry glare. Beside him, the Akabane head seemed impervious to it, looking up at her blankly with a quirked lip. Though her attention and anger were fixed on the red-haired man, Nagisa had the barest feeling that if he did attempt to move, she would move that heavy glance onto him, so he didn't risk it.

"I mean, it's what you wanted, right?" Akabane quirked a brow, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "More than anything. What you told me that very first day. You remember, don't you?" His eyes glistened, and the woman straightened her back, her mouth twisting to the side as she regarded him through narrowed eyes. Nagisa nearly held his breath as the air hung between them, as though that too was anticipating how she would reply.

"And this is permanent?" She said as she crossed her arms over her torso. In response, he spread out his arms and smiled up at her.

"Of course, I'm dead after all. And I named you the emergency heir. All's well that ends well, yeah?" Akabane said, and Nagisa found his eyes narrowed at his expression. 

The woman let out a long, exasperated sigh, and he looked back up. Her fingers curled against her chin as she shook her head and looked at the redhead with eyes that Nagisa could only describe as amused and annoyed. She looked between the two of them for a moment, before nodding.

"I'll handle everything and make up the story. Don't you dare leave this apartment, boss." She turned quickly, black heels clicking against the wooden flooring as she went for the door.

"I'm not your boss anymore," Akabane called after her, but Nagisa couldn't see any physical acknowledgment that she had heard those words. Instead, he only heard a low chuckle come from beside him. Looking over, he saw crossed arms, a smug grin, and shaking head.

Pressing his lips together, Nagisa stood and glanced around the apartment. The only part he really knew was the bar, which would be absolutely useless to him. If it wasn't necessary, he didn't drink. Beyond them was a sleek white door, that Akabane had come out of earlier that morning, around the time the woman had arrived. Nagisa assumed it led to the bedroom, which, he guessed further, had a door to the bathroom. The only thing that seemed to be missing was...

"Where's the kitchen?" He asked as he rounded the couch, placing a hand on the back of it and glancing at Akabane. The man in question looked up at him, the smile having faded away with whatever amused him.

"Ah yeah. Shit."

Nagisa frowned. "What does that mean?"

"You see when I was, well, 'alive,'" he began, punctuating the last words with air quotes, "I ordered my food. From my office."

"So, it's empty?"

"It was replaced with the, uh... The bar."

Nagisa sighed, his hand rising up to give a slight pressure to the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to kill you," he said, voice flat as he shook his head, before looking over to the bar, where the remnants of their fight last night remained. The whiskey bottle on the ground, dried blood on one of its edges. Two glasses, one still mostly full, sitting on the counter. He couldn't help but wonder what the apartment had looked like before it had been "renovated."

"Look, we'll just... I'll just text Rio to get us some breakfast! No harm done." He shrugged while pulling out his phone, and Nagisa could already feel a headache coming on as he let out another sigh. His hands were itching to quickly bring an end to this convoluted situation he'd found himself in. The only thing that was really, truly keeping him here was the fact that Akabane had threatened him with the guards that, no doubt, stood outside the room.

Nagisa narrowed his eyes as he thought:  _but if the guards think Mr. Akabane is dead, who will even notice if I kill him? Given enough time, I could find a path of escape that doesn't involve going out the front door, once I get a feel for the apartment._ He frowned. Perhaps he had thought this job would be simple enough just the day before, but now. This was going to take a lot more time than he was comfortable giving it. To make matters worse, he might have to get Akabane to be comfortable with him, so that he could explore the apartment without suspicion.

He straightened his spine and glanced at the man on the couch, who was still typing away on his phone. Leaning his weight against the couch, looking over the man's shoulder, Nagisa couldn't help but wonder how long it would really take for him to do what he planned.

* * *

When Akabane opened the door for the woman, Rio, as he'd called her before, she was frowning at him.

"And here I thought being dead would give you some bit of independence," she said as she roughly pushed a greasy white bag into the man's hands. He smiled at her before turning away and setting the bag down on the bar.

"Thanks so much, you precious human being. What did you get us?" He asked as he opened the bag, pulling out a handful of napkins.

"Egg WcMuffins," she said, and Nagisa caught her flashing a very fake and somewhat alarming smile. Akabane looked back to her with a pouting frown, which earned her shaking her head in reply before she turned to Nagisa.

"I'm very sorry you got caught up in his antics. I can't even think what's going through his head right now."

Nagisa gave her a soft smile. "I appreciate it, but hey, we'll figure something out. Maybe it won't be that bad."  _Would she notice? She'd probably get the feeling that something was wrong if he stopped asking her to bring food..._ "Actually, I was wondering if I could ask you a favor?"

She seemed surprised by this and crossed her arms before nodding to him. "Shoot."

"Do you think you could bring a hot plate, some bowls, plates, utensils, stuff like that, and a week's worth of groceries?" He asked, as his mind hurtled through her shift in behavior, watching her reaction closely as she thought through his request. She looked over at where Akabane was unwrapping one of the muffins, her eyes narrowing before she turned her gaze back on him, lips tightening into a thin line before she nodded.

"I suppose I can. That will keep him busy enough that I won't have to worry about him. In fact, I have a few other things to do - like my meeting with Terasaka."

Nagisa felt a cold flash of lightning flicker through his body at the name, though he tried to play it off. "Are you... Will you be negotiating with him?" He asked, letting his curiosity over the state of the two groups win over. It was something he'd always felt like he needed to pay attention to, even when he was only Koro's student. Simply because it had affected him and his work so closely.

Rio nodded, turning her gaze back away from him, and he followed her line of sight, to where Akabane sat. He was half-turned away from them, eating his breakfast on one of the bar stools, but Nagisa didn't miss the way his hand had clenched into a fist as it rested on his leg.

"Let's be real," she started, a slight grin curling her mouth as she spoke, eyes fixed on Akabane's expression. "Karma was an asshat when he was in charge. He was just trying to rile Terasaka up and start a war. And look where it got him. Since he made me the boss, I'm going to do this my own way, which means I'm going to dominate and get everyone wrapped around my little finger, whether they're aware of it or not."

Nagisa hummed and nodded, watching as Akabane's brows furrowed at her declaration. He decided that he liked Rio, though he felt that he had to complete the job Terasaka had given him, he figured that this would be the last time he got involved in direct conflicts with other groups. He liked what his job was before being sent to kill Akabane. He liked being a source of income for the group, rather than a conduit for revenge.

A part of him even missed the disguises, and that was saying something. He hated those disguises. He hated the dresses and the skirts and the makeup and always having to pretend he was younger than he actually was.

But he missed Koro, probably most. He missed when they would play shogi, and Koro would win. He always did.

"Hey," he heard Akabane say, closer than he had been before, as the breakfast was dumped into his hands. Nagisa blinked a few times as he let his thoughts drift away, looking back up at the other man.

"Thanks," he mumbled as he undid the wrapper, then took a bite. It was about as you would expect, a bit greasy, unpleasantly lukewarm, since it had sat for a few minutes, but, in the end, it was food, and Nagisa would rather not starve.

"Anyway," Rio pitched in, claiming Akabane's attention. "As I'm sure you've overheard, I'll be bringing some stuff by during lunch that will make the two of you a little more self-sustaining. I can't be coming around every time you need something. Your friendly assassin here has offered to cook for the two of you, and honestly, I don't know why I didn't think of making you do that before. Like,  _way_ before, Karma. So now, you can learn to be an independent adult." She turned on a heel, toward the door.

"See ya, boss," she said, as she left. The door closed behind her with a click, and Akabane let out a long breath to follow her out.

* * *

Tokyo looked different from outside his bedroom window than from his office window. Maybe it was because he was more used to the latter sight than this one, but he wasn't complaining.

He remembered that, once upon a time ago, he'd bought this specific apartment because of the view. During the day, a clear view of the cherry blossoms in the park below, while at night, the lights of the city burned in colorful arcs. The words advertising companies and products flashed brightly.

In the early days, he had spent a lot of time looking at it. It was only a few years ago, but it almost felt like longer. All of the long nights, pouring over documents or drinking himself silly had aged him past his time. Thanks to that, it had never really felt like home to him. He had never let it.

He let out a soft hum, thinking that now he had nothing else to do, he had the time to make this place more comfortable. Maybe even work on his sleeping habits, even if his bed was too big and made him feel as though it would drown him.

A clatter from past the door beckoned his attention, and he gave it, with a creased brow and a slight frown.

And when he looked, he was met with Nagisa, standing by the bar, picking up one of the more sturdy bottles of whiskey from off the floor, a few others tucked in his arms. Karma considered him for a moment before walking over to him, watching as the smaller man slowly noticed him and froze.

For a moment, Karma didn't say anything, just looked at him with hitched brows, his arms crossed over his chest. Nagisa nodded before unceremoniously putting the bottles down onto one of the shelves.

"I'm clearing the counter," was all he said before going back to work, pulling out bottles that Karma had forgotten were there from the island's cabinet.

"Why?" He cocked his head to the side, which gave him a better view of how much work the man had already done. It was nearly empty. Nagisa's mouth twisted to the side, and his brows furrowed as he transported some more alcohol from one half of the bar to the other.

"Because  _someone_ was an idiot and got rid of their kitchen, so I need a place to cook. And this is it."

Again, Karma stayed silent, watching Nagisa in amusement as he so meticulously cleaned out the cabinet and moved the bottles. And they stayed in silence. Nagisa didn't seem to be willing to start up a conversation, and Karma was happy to just stand there and wait for something to happen. Preferably, he considered, that something would be some kind of conversation. He hadn't thought there had been anything wrong with the one they had last night, only that Nagisa had been trying to kill him then. Only now, that little difficulty had been removed.

" _Can_ you cook?" He asked, absently, as he watched Nagisa clean. Quickly, Nagisa looked at him with a frown.

"Of course, I can. I'm an adult."

Karma laughed at that and found himself shrugging, watching as Nagisa stood up straight again.

"Are you done then?" He asked and was answered with a terse nod. "You live alone or something?" Nagisa turned to look at him with a furrowed brow.

"I don't know what you mean..." The response was slow in coming, and Karma watched as Nagisa rested against the counter, those blue bangs falling into his eyes just slightly.

"Like, you can cook, so you live alone, right?"

He shook his head. "No. I actually live in a dorm with... with the other assassin under contract with the Terasaka group. We switch off with cooking, but sometimes he's got an idea and doesn't let me anywhere near the kitchen while he makes it." Nagisa laughed slightly at his own recollection, and Karma found himself frowning as a thought creeped its way into his head.

"Is he your lover or something?" Karma said, the words stumbling out after each other as though he had actually meant to say them. Nagisa was absolutely nonplussed by the question; his body jerked slightly, as if startled.

"No no no no no," he urged, shaking his head roughly, hair flying this way and that. "God no. K- He's way too old. No. He's more like... Like a father-figure than anything." Karma felt his ears perk at this.

"So you're single."

Nagisa stared at him blankly for a few moments before the utter disbelief at what he was hearing set in.

"Are you serious right now?"

Karma, in return, shrugged, a quick, easy smile making its way to across his lips. "Look, we're both adults here-"

"No," Nagisa interrupted, shaking his head aggressively once more. "Sorry, but no. Not going to happen. Not even in your wildest dreams."

"I'm just saying-"

"No."

"You look like you'd be, objectively, a good fuck."

At that, Nagisa let out a very long, very tired sigh as he shook his head once more before turning toward Karma and taking a step forward.

"Never," he said resolutely. "No matter what you try to say, or how you try to convince me. I will  _never_ let you sleep with me."

The room fell into an empty silence for a few moments. One that felt cold and still until Karma nodded.

"Okay then. That's fair."

* * *

Rio's third visit was much shorter than the others, as she refused to let either of them drag her into anything. She simply left three bags full of groceries beside the counter and left the apartment as quickly as she came.

Nagisa took to unloading and figuring out where he wanted to keep things, going through the food she had brought, and setting up his makeshift kitchen. Akabane had long abandoned the bar, and at the moment, was lounging on the couch. His red hair stuck out in tufts from the side of the couch, and his arm was draped over his head, hand relaxed in a loose fist.

He didn't really want to break the silence that had fallen over the two of them, thinking that maybe it was better if they didn't talk after all. Especially since he knew now what Akabane thought about this situation. As much as he wanted to create some sort of ease or comfort between them, he couldn't help but feel as though that hollow silence had persisted and would until they somehow found a way to tear down the wall it had created.

Nagisa found his eyes fixed on those tufts of hair. He found his mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of the right thing, the right weapon to siege. His brow furrowed as he struggled through his thoughts. And yet, with the wall in place, Akabane spoke.

"I'm pretty sure I have a board game or something, somewhere around here. If you're interested." He picked himself off the couch and looked at Nagisa, brows arched, but other than that his expression was neutral. "After lunch." That seemed to be added as an afterthought, as he dropped himself back down.

The two returned to silence, and Nagisa pulled his focus back to the things Rio brought. He figured Akabane must have been feeling that same thing, the very same wall.

He heard, rather than saw, Akabane stand. The soft taps of his feet against the flooring as he picked himself off the couch and wandered back to Nagisa.

His shadow covered the counter.

"It's no good," he said. "So here's what we're going to do-"

"You're going to bargain with me?" Nagisa asked as he turned on the hot plate, keeping most of his attention on what he was doing.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do."

"That's all you've  _been_ doing."

Akabane grinned at him. "Then I'm going to bargain harder."

Nagisa shook his head and glanced up at the other before bringing his attention to the food once more.

"That's a stage of denial. Maybe you should move onto acceptance."

"Denial of  _what?_ "

"We're dead. Rio is in charge of the Akabane group, and all you've got left is this apartment." Nagisa said, voice calm but eyes blazing. "Maybe you need to come to terms with that. After all, this was  _your_ idea."

"I'm not... I'm  _fine_ with all of this, okay? It's been... Mostly relaxing. The only thing that is  _getting to me_ is this stupid quiet. All I want is for the two of us to get along. Since we're the only two here, so, I don't know, can you please  _look at me?_ "

Nagisa paused, hands freezing, breath steady, before he straightened his back and looked at the other man, whose arms were spread out, mouth set in a frown. At it, Nagisa felt a chuckle rise up in his chest and hid it behind his mouth and hand.

"You're very frustrated right now," he noted, smiling. "I'm starting to think this will be more fun than we both originally thought."

Akabane calmed slowly, tension releasing from his shoulders. His smile returned as he too stood up straighter.

"For you, maybe."

Nagisa shrugged, turning back to his lunch preparations. From the corner of his eye, he could see Akabane lean against the counter.

Maybe he'd be comfortable with Nagisa sooner than he'd expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like everyone's out of character so I'm sorry


	3. your body language is so persuasive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Itona is... up to something
> 
> Plot happens
> 
> Karma thinks everything in life is better with whiskey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Teraito isn't very background anymore lol

If Horibe Itona was a lesser man, he probably would have vomited at the scene that unfurled in front of him. However, it seemed to be, for once in his life, a good thing, that he had both seen and done some terrible, gruesome things.

Ryouma understood, they all knew he did, that while the assassins lived under his money and his roof, they didn't belong entirely to him. And now, after hearing of recent events from the Akabane group, it was even more certain.

The assassins had no loyalty to the name Terasaka, and because of that, Itona would have to clean blood off his shoes.

The elder was a mass of rage, tearing into Ryouma's men with his knives, making them bleed in thick, sticky puddles on the floor. Itona scrunched up his nose with a frown as he walked through the past carnage and toward the man. He didn't see what he expected. There was no heaving breath; there were no wide eyes or furrowed brows. It was simply a man covered in blood. Splattered across his face, onto his teeth, nearly up to his elbows, trickling down his neck.

The man grinned at Itona, but Itona did not return that smile. Instead, he held up his hands, as if pleading for mercy. The knife was dropped, but Itona did not let his eyes follow it. Keeping his guard up while making sure the man understood that he truly did not mean any harm.

"I simply want to talk," he said, slowly, not moving as the assassin took a few slow, quiet steps closer to him. "Terasaka wants to remind you where your enemies lie." The man's teeth grit, and his smile faded. His eyes narrowed, and he stepped up in front of Itona.

"I know who my enemies are," he said, voice in a near whisper. Itona still did not move, his hands remained where they were - in the man's line of sight.

"You're not acting like you do." Itona lifted his chin and watched a shift occur deep in the man's dark eyes. "Shiota called you 'Koro,' right? Because no one ever came up with a name for you. And that's what you taught him, how to kill. The two of you never parted, unless for jobs, and even then rarely." The man's hand clasped around Itona's throat.

His voice was like a gas leak when it crept between his clenched teeth. "Why are you saying these things to me?"

Itona grinned. "We're not the ones who took Shiota away from you, 'Koro,'" he said. "It was the Akabane group."

Koro did not reply, instead, his hand tightened, and Itona repressed the urge to choke at the weight on his throat. He winced, taking in a quick breath as he watched Koro's dark eyes closely, hoping for any kind of shift or change within them. All he saw was a fire deep within them. One that shook him to his core.

"Terasaka is the one who sent him there. I should have been the one to go."

"We couldn't have known," Itona quickly replied, a quick gasp following as he caught his breath once more. "There was no way any of us could have known."

Koro's hand tightened, and Itona resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut at the uncomfortable pressure that felt like it echoed through his body and skull. His mind raised, but he took no action as he was lifted slowly from the floor. If he just barely stretched his foot out, he would be able to touch the ground once more. That thought alone comforted him as his lungs burned slightly.

"They  _shot_ him," Koro's voice was weak, still as he spoke, hand on Itona's throat trembling. "As he was getting away. He couldn't have... There's no way he'd ever realize they were behind him. And even if he did, he couldn't have..." Something flashed within Koro's eyes, just strong enough that Itona could notice it as his vision became indistinct. "I didn't train him well enough. He wasn't ready. It was my fault."

Quickly, Itona reached up and broke Koro's grip with a heavy push, and he fell back onto the ground, his legs collapsing underneath him as fell to the ground, landing awkwardly on them as he caught his breath, rubbing at his sore throat.

"So then," he said, voice coarse and gravely. "What are you going to do about it?"

Koro's eyes met his own, and Itona felt the warmth of victory in his chest.

* * *

Ryouma was seated on the couch, hunched forward, tinkering with a gun when Itona entered the room. It was silent between them as Itona came closer and sat beside him, slipping his shoes off his feet before he tucked them underneath himself, the blood having dried to the shoes, the dark red stark against the white flooring. He listened in content at the muffled clicks of the gun as its pieces came apart in Ryouma's hands. His eyes followed those hands as the gun came back together before it was put to the side and Ryouma's eyes met his once more. Until those eyes trailed away.

"Your neck is red," Ryouma noted, absently.

"Not important," he answered as he looked away, worried that his voice was still as rough as it had been. "What's important is that he's not attacking our men anymore. And that I've managed to set him loose on the Akabanes." He felt gentle fingertips ghost over his throat.

"You're certain that he intends to go after the Akabanes?" Ryouma asked him, as his hand curled around the back of Itona's neck, thumb grazing over the stubborn markings Koro's fingers had left. He looked over, his breath shaking slightly as the gentle touch tickled him and trailed up onto his jaw.

"I can be very persuasive, Ryouma. You know that." He countered, his expression entirely neutral as Ryouma let out a deep chuckle, his head shaking slightly as he released Itona and moved away, standing from the couch and taking Itona's shoes from off the floor.

He turned the shoes over in his hand and looked over the blood that caked the bottom of the sole. Face twisted and brows knit, he rubbed his thumb against one of the sides of the shoe.

"How many did you see there?" He asked, rubbing his fingers against his thumb.

Itona took in a deep breath as he shifted his legs, crossing them, and leaning back against the couch. "I'd say there were five or six. I wasn't able to count. It was like they were torn up by a savage beast. It wasn't anything like anyone had ever seen before. I don't think they knew he was capable of such violence."

The words were met with a frown as Ryouma put the shoes back down, a little a ways from their owner before turning, ruffling his hair slightly as he let out a long sigh, eyes falling on Itona once more. Though he looked like he wanted to speak, he said nothing, and Itona regarded him with a gentle glance.

"We only have to wait, Ryouma," he said, hoping to reassure the taller man. "It won't be long before he's done the same to the entirety of the Akabane group." As he smiled up at Ryouma, he couldn't miss the spark that lit in the man's eyes, before that spark ignited into a grin that spread further than his own.

Ryouma sat once more, facing Itona, his hands coming up and framing his face as he looked at him with a feral, ravenous smile. "You always manage the most amazing things, Ito. It makes me so glad you're on my side."

Itona smiled back, reserved, small, but the spark in his eyes made it mischievous. "Where else would I be?" He asked, placing his own hand against Ryouma's arm. "You claimed this empire for me, after all."

* * *

There was nothing Karma loved more than lounging on his sofa reading the news with a glass of whiskey in his hand. Though, he could have gone without the metaphorical daggers that were piercing into the back of his head. Folding up the piece of paper, and taking a sip for some liquid courage, Karma glanced behind himself and found Nagisa, from where he'd set up a makeshift table glaring at him.

"And what did I do this time?" He asked, turning his body slightly to make it easier to meet Nagisa's eyes.

As an addition to his reply, Nagisa held up a hand, vaguely gesturing towards him from behind the book they'd scavenged from Karma's still unpacked boxes. "Do you even know what time it is?"

Karma frowned and knocked the glass against his mouth a few times. "Morning."

"Then why are you drinking?"

With a deep breath and smirked lips, Karma twirled the liquid in his glass a few times before meeting Nagisa's eyes once more. "Time is but an illusion." To that, Nagisa shook his head, and Karma could have sworn he heard a whispered  _'oh my god'_ as Nagisa returned to his book, and Karma chuckled as he turned back to the paper.

They had gotten used to spending time like this after Nagisa demanded that they get more things to do, as though he'd rather not rely on Karma for entertainment. At the simple connotation of that, Karma had feigned theatric shock, complete with a gasp and a hand pressed to his chest. Though, he did agree, in some ways, with Nagisa. The two of them did need to be independent if neither of them wanted to end up killing each other out of pure aggravation.

Karma had already dodged that bullet once, so no thank you.

And when Nagisa had suggested they look around to see what was already in the apartment so they wouldn't bother Rio again, Karma had to admit to himself that he had absolutely no clue what he actually owned, having barely spent time there in the last few years. So when Nagisa found a few boxes shoved underneath his bed, Karma found his own curiosity sparked by it.

Karma found his curiosity sparked by Nagisa as the shorter male began to alter the apartment as he saw fit. First, the small cooking area in the bar. Then, using one of the boxes as a table, going through those boxes and finding books, miscellaneous tools, and an old video game system Karma forgot he had. Nagisa seemed more at home in the apartment than Karma had ever been, and that thought got Karma yearning. He didn't know what for, but for something he couldn't describe. Maybe just for Nagisa's grasp of living. The way he was able to sleep every night, even if it was just on the sofa. The way he was able to eat consistently throughout the days.

The only thing Nagisa ever complained about was Karma himself, and the thought of that made him laugh.

For some reason, this apartment was starting to feel more like a home - to someone, he didn't know exactly who. It was different from those years where he'd come here just to crash, or be sick, or drink. The room felt different, and he didn't know how that happened. How did a  _room_ feel different? It used to be simply a place. Somewhere he could put the things he would never use again before going back to the office. Somewhere he would be forced to go back to when Rio noticed his forehead getting a little hot. Somewhere he would avoid.

He figured it was because he was spending more time in it. That was why it was changing. Because there was someone new, someone milling about and taking things out of boxes they'd been in for  _years_ and  _decorating._ It was more than just a couch, bar, and bed.

Maybe it was becoming the room Karma had thought it would be when he first moved in - before he got wrapped up in taking over his father's position. Maybe this whole 'let's pretend to be dead' idea was a good thing.

Karma looked back over his shoulder to where Nagisa was reading and couldn't help the slight twitch of his lip when he saw the broad cover obscuring the other's face.

"You know," he spoke up, glass resting against his stomach, gaze risen to the ceiling. "I had my doubts at first, but this might not be such a bad thing."

He heard Nagisa put his book down, and when he looked over, he saw a slight bump where he assumed Nagisa's finger was keeping his place.

"Because you're not being unbearable anymore?" Nagisa grinned and leaned forward slightly. Karma let out a slight laugh and shook his head.

"I mean. This might just bring out the best of both of us, you know?" He sat up, glass in hand as it rested on the back of the sofa.

"Oh, I hope not."

Karma could hear the twinge in Nagisa's voice, could see how that grin did not leave his lips, and how his shoulders started shaking slightly from the soft but brief laughter that poured out of him. Karma couldn't help but follow shortly after, letting himself laugh like he hadn't in a while.

"Must have been work," Nagisa said, though his voice was far away. "Think about it. You buried yourself in work and only came out for sex and whiskey, right?" Karma opened his mouth to protest. "And I wasn't that much better. I basically lived to kill."

"That's incorrect, actually. Whiskey was always a great drink while working." He got in, and Nagisa shook his head with a laugh.

"You're awful," he said, voice breathy and eyes glistening in mirth. "You're like. The worst possible human being." Karma laughed.

"That's rude."

"It's true though, and you know it."

Karma paused and let it all lapse over him, keeping his gaze on Nagisa before taking another drink of the whiskey.

"What did you do before you became an assassin?" He asked, and watched as Nagisa's free hand tucked itself under his chin as he blew out a puff of air.

"Things normal kids do, probably. You?"

Karma pressed his lips together before taking another drink. "Same."

The silence that followed wasn't as bad as the one that came after Karma had flirted with him, yet he still thought it was still pretty awkward. Probably because they continued looking at each other for a couple minutes afterward before Nagisa slowly returned to his book and Karma occupied himself with another drink.

"I make good decisions when I'm drunk," he said, absently, and was answered with a hum. Letting himself fall back on the couch, Karma took that as an invitation to keep talking. "It probably didn't help that I was drunk most of the time I was faced with making decisions though."

"Were you drunk when you said I'd be a good fuck?" Nagisa asked him, not looking up from his book.

"No."

"Point taken."

Karma laughed, putting the glass back on his stomach before opening the newspaper once again, shaking his head.

It made him feel a lot better, knowing that the wall he'd thought was so indestructible started looking as if it were made of rubber instead of iron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and your support. I hope you're looking forward to next week :)
> 
> I'm hoping that it'll be longer than this one because, despite travelling, I'm going to have a lot of free time in the coming days. Even though, the week after next, I start school and will be very busy, I will dedicate myself to writing this in my free time.


	4. you're like a whisper in my ear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nagisa hangs out a window
> 
> Rio is making decisions and Karma feels left out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, sorry this was later than usual, but it's still Thursday for me so it still counts.

Nagisa didn't know what it was, entirely, but anyone could feel the change in the atmosphere of Akabane's apartment, and it was that that unsettled him.  _Yes,_ he had wanted Akabane to become accustomed to his presence.  _Yes,_ he had wanted the two of them to get along, in some outcome of the phrase. But the place had begun feeling warmer than it had, and it wasn't the air around him.

A deep, nostalgic part of his being wanted to say that it reminded him of that old house in the suburbs, with its tall white walls and windows painted navy blue; its  _tatami_ mats and  _kotatsu_ ; the low table with the light blue pillows; the steep staircases that he'd fallen down once; the attic that creaked with every step they took; the way his father talked to him softly before he went to bed; the way his mother greeted him in the morning with a bright smile. The rational part of him claimed that he was being stupid, so he ignored both of them. He didn't want to think of that old house because that's where his parents had lived, and been happy. That's where everything was sunny, before the apartment in the city, and before the dorms of the Terasaka group.

He took a long breath and tried to clear away the images that floated into his head. The sun gleamed white light through the window and lit up the white walls of the room. He was starting to really like this place, and that thought scared him. He leaned forward, letting his fingers curl over the sides of the sink as he took a few long deep breaths. Closing his eyes, he began breathing through his nose, letting the cold feeling at his fingers center him as he breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth.

Nagisa stayed like that for a few moments before he looked at himself in the mirror once more. Took in the way his pupils dilated for a moment as he readjusted to the light. Took in the way his hair hung limply down his shoulders. The way the stark light made his skin look.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered to his reflection before straightening his back and stepping away from the sink. He pressed his palms to his face for a moment, looking through his fingers with a wrinkled brow before his gaze began drifting over to the window. Hands falling, he stepped over to the window and looked out.

Just beyond was another building, tall with dark windows, reminiscent of an office building. Without a thought, Nagisa opened the window and poked his head out, letting his eyes follow the length of the building down to the street far below. His stomach lurched at the distance, so he shifted, looking around them, at the other windows, the ones in Akabane's room the peered out onto the park just beyond them, the curve of the building to his right. Pulling himself forward, so he sat on the edge, Nagisa looked up.

Above them was the roof, and all he could really see of it was the ledge of it. He looked around again as a thought returned to him.

If he was going to pull off anything, he'd need an alternative way out.

With one hand carefully grasping the side of the window, Nagisa reached up, his fingers against the brick of the building as his skin scraped against the rough brick face. He stretched, his back arching as he tried to touch the ledge. He pushed his body up, bare feet against the wall of the bathroom inside, arm straining to hold him up, until his fingers finally touched the stone. Nagisa grinned. If he'd been standing on the windowsill, if he'd been actively trying to get out of the apartment, he could have been up and out in no time.

He let his feet slip down the wall, his hand coming down to grasp the other side of the window as he did until he sat on the sill, and glanced around once more. From here, he couldn't see what was around them, only the park and the neighboring office. With a pout, Nagisa slipped back into the bathroom and closed the window behind him before stretching his arms behind his head and over his chest. He took in a deep breath, and this time he was glad it wasn't melancholic.

As he dropped his arms, he left the bathroom and returned to the living room, letting his eyes dart over to the large bed in the center of the master bedroom as he cut through it. The former boss of the Akabane group was curled up in the deep red blankets, so much that Nagisa could hardly tell fabric from the man's hair. He absently pressed a hand to his mouth as he crept by, stepping carefully so that none of the wooden boards creaked beneath his feet.

When he entered the living room area, he let himself glance at the clock and chuckle. He couldn't help it, regarding the time, and the fact that Akabane had spent the entirety of the day sleeping. Nagisa wondered if the man was just bored, but before he could mull it through anymore, he beelined for the window and opened it up, leaning out and looking around for buildings reasonably lower than or the same height of their own. Luckily enough, there was one a bit away. A quick glance up gave Nagisa the idea that it may be close enough to jump if he wanted to risk it. Another look told him that there were enough handholds that he should be able to navigate his way down the side of it if he was careful.

At this point, Nagisa was more readily open to the climbing. It would be a lot less dangerous than just running and jumping full-speed off the side of a building, hoping he gets to the other one.

Standing straight again, Nagisa closed this window too, before turning back around and collapsing on the couch, wondering when he should put the plan into effect, which, unfortunately, led to thoughts of Akabane. Led to thoughts of what things had been like since they had agreed to die. Akabane getting drunk more often than not. Flirting with him, in an experience that was painful for both of them, more often than not. And excusing his behavior with quips like: "who cares, we're already dead," and "time is an illusion manufactured by the living."

A chuckle broke from his throat as he remembered, and soon he had broken into a fit of quiet laughter, arms over his face, eyes squeezed shut.

Until that laughter was interrupted by a coarse feeling in his chest, reminding him of everything he could never see again - the old house, his parents, Koro.

He breathed in, felt his chest stutter, and didn't move his arms.

* * *

"Poker?" Nagisa's nose crinkled up and his brows knit, high on his face until he finally granted the expression to Karma, when they fell down and wrinkled the skin between them.

"Why not?" He answered with a lazy shrug as he leaned back into the cushions of the couch. His head resounded with an echoing ache, one he got from catching up on sleep. At this point, he assumed his body just hated him, so he didn't pay it any mind.

Nagisa took a slow bite out of his sandwich, as he had made some for the two of them, despite the fact that it had been later than he normally would.

In fact, it was midnight, and the two of them were seated on the couch, eating cold cut sandwiches, the television flickering in front of them, showing what Nagisa had skillfully deduced to be professional poker. With a twist to his lips, Nagisa leaned forward and grabbed the remote, beginning to flip through the channels. The colors on the screen got darker and brighter, the noises softer and louder. Sometimes it was a commercial, others a show, others a movie. After a bit of skimming, something caught Karma's eyes, a flash of a familiar face, and he got Nagisa's attention.

"Wait, turn back," he said, eyes fixed on the screen as he spoke. Nagisa did as he asked, slowly, until they had turned to the channel once more and Karma gave the okay.

Nakamura Rio was on NHK.

Beside him, Nagisa seemed to be bewildered as the two watched as Rio talked to the anchorwoman about finances and company growth.

"What's going on?" Nagisa asked, his voice tinged with innocent curiosity, while Karma let the tension out of his body as he frowned once more.

"We're a finance company that doubles as a yakuza group," he explained, watching Rio, as she behaved herself perfectly on screen. Saying the right words whenever she was prompted. Smiling a pretty smile. No doubt she was better at this than Karma had been. Rio had always said that Karma was too rough around the edges for public television, and perhaps she was right.

Nagisa considered this for a moment, before smirking. "So, like a loan shark."

Karma gawked. " _No_." Then he began laughing. "Sorry, but no. We help people with money, like. Account management and stuff like that."

Nagisa nodded before turning back to the screen. The segment with Rio was ending and the show was starting to talk about trains again. Karma reached forward and turned it off before letting himself fall back, attracting Nagisa's gaze.

"You were on television?" He asked, voice gentle, soft, and when Karma looked over he saw the same thing in his eyes.

Karma grinned, full of teeth. "Ah, yeah. I was. They used to ask me about stock trends and the value of money. I used to be a guy people asked things of, you know? Like a teacher of sorts."

Nagisa smiled, a small smile, as though he were being kind tonight. His gaze was no longer on Karma, instead favoring some vague distance beyond him as he spoke. "I used to want to be a teacher. In junior high." He let out a shaky breath. "Things didn't turn out that way, as you can see."

"What happened?"

He startled at the question. "That's... I can't..." Drawing his mouth into a thin line, Karma nodded in understanding.

"Alright," he concurred. "You don't want to talk about it."

Nagisa nodded and turned away from him, slightly. "Sorry."

"How about I tell you about the time Rio and I hosted a maid cafe at the school festival in high school instead?" Karma said, with a smirk. "Just the two of us."

* * *

When Nagisa woke up, the sun reached like a pale hand across the wooden floors of Akabane's apartment, slipping in through the window and pressing against the back of the couch where he slept. Where he normally slept,  _that_ wasn't the weird thing about this morning. The thing that made Nagisa's stomach freeze and his heart lurch up into his throat.

This particular morning, Nagisa had woken up abnormally warm and boxed in, with a thick comfort that was most certainly  _not_ a pillow beneath his head. As his awareness slowly came back to him, he shifted, rolling over, even though a part of his mind already knew what awaited him.

There were certain benefits to being short, at least in Nagisa's mind. It made disguising himself easier. He could even pretend to be a child when the whim struck him. But at this moment, all he got from those 'benefits' was a hulking mass of clothed flesh in his face, hands that were once on his chest now cradled his chest as though he  _were_ a child or a pillow. Nagisa pushed against the chest before him, trying to disentangle himself from this awkward situation.

Akabane grumbled something incomprehensible as his arms tightened around Nagisa's waist, and he took in a settling breath as he considered the situation.

On one hand, he could wait until Akabane woke up and released him consciously. Or, he could push his way out and land painfully on the floor with a bang that would no doubt wake Akabane.

 _Or,_ he could wake Akabane himself, rather than dealing with the man's restricting arms.

Without much more thought on the matter, Nagisa looked up to Akabane's sleeping face, pried loose his both of arms and squeezed the man's nose shut and covered his mouth. After a count of four seconds, his eyes flew open and Nagisa released him.

"Good morning, then," Nagisa said pleasantly. "Would you like to let me go?"

For a moment, he didn't react, just looked between them and seemed to analyze the situation before his mouth widened into that stupid grin he got whenever he had an idea.

_Oh, fantastic._

"Look at this. I have you right where I want you, little assassin." He said with that stupid grin, his eyes a soft amber, as though he was actually enjoying this. Nagisa simply frowned in reply. "You gotta do one thing if you want me to let you go."

"Please."

Akabane shook his head. "Nope."

Nagisa narrowed his eyes as he looked back up at Akabane. "What do you want then?"

He seemed to consider this carefully, his arms solid steel as he looked up and away in contemplation before he answered. "All I need from you is effort." He shrugged. "That's all. Promise me some effort and I'll let you go."

"Effort?"

"All we've got in this world is each other. And maybe a weekly Rio. I just want to get along with the only person I have left."

Nagisa looked away from Akabane, and shifted his position once more, turning so he was on his back. He wrapped his arms around himself and curled up his legs as Akabane's arms descended upon him once again, palm resting surely on his waist.

"What does this entail, Mr. Akabane?"

He felt, rather than heard, the grumble that came from Akabane at that. "First off, start by calling me Karma."

Nagisa looked up and found those eyes looking down at him. Like fire, was Akabane. Was Karma, rather.

"Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said last week, uni starts on Monday and I won't have as much time to write, but I'll try my best.

**Author's Note:**

> I make announcements about this and other fics on [Tumblr](https://edoqawa.tumblr.com).


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